Spiraling Down the Rabbit Hole
by bluejanes
Summary: In which Hermione finds that wishing for a peaceful afterlife is impossible. When Hermione Granger dies, she only wants peace after a chaotic lifetime. But when she's reborn into the body of Ariana Dumbledore, she finds that fate just won't let her catch a break. Time Travel fic.
1. Act I, Scene I

When Hermione Granger dies, she's expecting it. In fact, she welcomes it. She's lived a long and fulfilled life of one hundred years, and outlived all of her old friends and family. So she welcomes Death's cold hands, and looks forward to a serene afterlife with the ones she loves. She leaves the world gently, like the whisper of a breeze, with her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren by her side. She has a rather large family, she thinks fondly, before her breath flutters to a silent stop. Those who witnessed her death would later say that it was the most beautiful, content passing they'd ever seen.

The next thing she knows, she's opening her eyes, expecting to see Harry and Ron smiling at her, but instead gets this strange, strange, feeling. There's a dim, cozy light that illuminates the room, and she thinks dazedly, _what a strange afterlife_. It's not until she looks forward, and her hazy vision clears slightly, that she can see a shock of auburn hair; and then she knows something is very, _very_ wrong. _Ron's hair is ginger_ , she thinks suddenly, and then she's moving her eyes around rapidly, charting her surroundings; the heavy scars of the war never fully erased from her. _Find out your surroundings, find out who's near you, and what's going on_. Because as Moody always said, constant vigilance.

A warm smile caresses her as she glances up—she's being held by someone, who lifts her up lovingly.

"This is your daughter, Ariana." The woman says, presumably talking about her. _Ariana?_ Hermione inwardly frowns; the name is familiar, tugging on the edge of her mind, and then she realizes with horror— _she's not even Hermione anymore_.

 _What the hell is going on?_ She thinks frantically.

"She's beautiful." A rough but affectionate masculine voice says, "Albus, Aberforth this is your new sister."

 _Holy. Shit._ Did she just hear Albus and Aberforth? Hermione gulps desperately, unsure of the situation, but now deeply worried. Could she be in the past? Her mind races, connecting different scenarios and information she's gathered in her short time here. _If their name turns out to be Dumbledore…_ She thinks grimly.

Shifting her gaze to the man in front of her, she notes that he has blonde hair and blue eyes, and is currently holding a small child—who she guesses to be Aberforth—in his arms. Albus, a short, adorable red-headed boy is gazing at her with intelligent blue eyes. Eyes that she remembers so well. They don't pierce her nightmares like they do Harry's, but she still feels a pang of grief and longing as she stares right back at him.

Tears pool at her eyes, and all the confusion and pain she feels bursts out in a single wail. And then it's like a waterfall, cascading out her eyes, her screams filling the room.

"There, there, it's alright," coos the woman, "It'll be alright." Hermione wails her lungs out; she cries for the life she has lost, and she cries for the life she must live. She cries until she is so tired that she can cry no longer, and the smooth, tender rocking of the woman lulls her to sleep.

Hermione at an old age is no different from a young Hermione—she still has her dazzling brilliance, and her sharp mind. Her inner strength and power still radiates throughout her like a blazing fire, but she's tired. The war in her young teenage years had drained a lot of her vitality—not that she ever showed it. The War took so much out of its participants, and there would always be a gaping hole in those who had suffered through the War. Time could heal that ache, but it'd never fully disappear. Even now, HermioneAriana feels the ghostly echoes of the atrocities of the War in her heart and soul. It wears down her bones, and she is not innocent. She knows. Knows the despair and death and blood and terror brought from war; she's hardened, and there's nothing she can ever do to reverse that. But she's thankful for this, because in this life, she'll need all the experience she can get.

The days pass by swiftly—she's too busy sleeping, eating, and trying to develop her almost non-existent muscles that time moves too quickly for her to keep track of. Aberforth visits her often, and at this point, she's strong enough to hold herself on her stomach and amuse him for a while. She's closest to Aberforth, mostly because they are around a year apart, and their parents often put them together. Both of them are rather mild tempered, and get along brilliantly. It feels strange to be so young again, when she had been so old. But for some reason, Hermione doesn't feel old at all. It's almost revitalizing in a way to be a baby again, with no worries except for eating and sleeping. Of course, Hermione is no normal child—she worries constantly about the future. She's time traveled into the late 1800s, and it's driving her insane. Her family is so magical, so _Dumbledore,_ that she can hardly deny the evidence.

It's too painful for her to look at Albus in the face, and she has trouble seeing him as her brother at times. But he's okay with that because he's too busy trying to develop his magic and learn as much as he can. Granted, Hermione will probably do the same thing once she develops the muscles that allow her to sit up and read—she needs to research, and lots of it. Because if she can change something, just one thing, she might be able to save her friends from the pain of the War. She needs to survive, because she needs to change the world. And even if it twists the timeline, she won't care. Because all that matters in the end, is that everyone is happier; that everyone gets a childhood. Being reborn as a Dumbledore has its merits, because although Ariana died in the original timeline, she can _feel_ magic thrumming through her veins, and she has decades of experience to master it. And besides, if she can change the world, she can save her brothers from a lot of suffering. At least this time, her mother won't die, and her father won't go to Azkaban.

Slowly, but surely, she gets used to her family. The fierce love of her parents and the constant presence of her brothers. They're her family now and she loves them just as much as they love her. She holds her old family in the tenderest space in her heart and locks it away. She's Ariana. Vaguely, she wonders if there ever will be a Hermione born in 1979. There are now two timelines, and time travel is too uncertain of a subject for her to completely understand. But she knows that she will never be Hermione again, so whether or not there will be Hermione, she will change time.

She likes her brown eyes. They're the only thing that remind her of her life as Hermione. She's Hermione and Ariana, but she can never be Hermione again. And she accepts this. She's HermioneAriana, but she's Ariana. She's Ariana, and she loves her family deeply. She knows how to treasure them, she knows the feeling of losing someone you love in the blink of an eye. So she holds them to her fiercely, watching over her brothers like an older sister, and her parents like grown daughter.

Of course, her parents find this strange. But the whole Dumbledore family is strange. They've already produced a prodigy son, who has the potential to become one of the greatest wizards alive. Ariana is no impossibility, and they accept her quirks. Because she's still Ariana, still their daughter, and they love her.

Progressing from a baby into her toddler years is no easy feat, but by the time she's two, she's regarded as a prodigy rival to Albus. Her intelligence and wisdom has surpassed his for now, and she reads whatever she can, whenever she can. Grindelwald is an enigma she never fully understood, and she has to be ready for when he comes. Albus begins to spend more time with her—he's noticed her cleverness, the way she catches on so quickly it's like she's already learned it. Ariana grows to accept him as her brother, and the pain fades into faint scar; because he's her brother and he's alive.

The two of them are exchanging theories and discussing the nature of the magical world and magic by the time she's four. Her parents are overjoyed and astounded by their precocious children, and they're so, so proud. Ariana feels lucky with such an amazing family. Aberforth is not quite on Albus' level, but he's extremely intelligent nonetheless. Ariana tries her best to make him feel included, but it often proves to be difficult because Albus is still a young boy and has not quite mastered the art of empathy just yet. He often launches into discussions too complex for Aberforth to understand, which fosters a bit of resentment on Aberforth's part. But Ariana spends more time with Aberforth—he's still her favorite brother, just like he had been in the original timeline. Aberforth is gruff but caring. He's always sweet to her and dotes on her like the older brother he is. She can talk about mundane things with him, and she can feel like a child around him. She's not being forced into an adult, and though she technically is one, she's missed the feeling of being a child with no worries; so she tries to enjoy it as best she can. Albus is not nearly as affectionate as Aberforth, but he is a loving brother nonetheless. Sometimes, though, he is _too_ intelligent, and it puts him on a level that no one but herself can reach. He's an extremely talented child, but this isolation has created a sense of loneliness, and created the feeling that no one will ever be able to match him. Still, he continues to evolve every day, and Ariana watches him carefully because she's scared one day he'll break.

Accidental magic is present throughout childhood, but for Ariana, it's not accidental. The familiar feeling of molding her magic, holding onto it, and stretching its power is second nature. Her young body finds it difficult to accommodate her experience, so Ariana has to practice every day, little by little trying to reach her former level. She knows it'll take years—after all, she'd had decades to develop her magic in her past life. Albus is starting to dabble a bit in the Dark Arts, and though their parents are worried, they say nothing because they are afraid of holding him back. Aberforth is the only one who calls him out. This is the trigger to their already rocky relationship, and the two burst into an argument. From that point on, the two find it difficult to see eye to eye, and no matter how Ariana tries to reconcile them, they're too stubborn to face each other.

Finally, she turns six. Albus is out in the village with his friends, and Aberforth is too busy with his new broom to hang out with her. There's a strange sense of foreboding that nags at her, and she's too experienced to ignore her instincts—so she's on her guard as she walks out to practice her magic. The air is fresh and crisp, and though Ariana enjoys the company of her family, there are times where she has to be alone. She makes the grass stir around her feet and the leaves rustle with gusts of wind, and the hedges tremble. The air around her is shifting, moving, like a snake moving towards its prey, and she revels in the feeling of her magic. It's improving day by day, and she's confident she'll make progress enough to be competent in wandless magic by the time she attends Hogwarts. (Something tells her that Ariana never attended Hogwarts, but she's too enraptured in her feelings to fully realize).

"Hey!" Barks a young, male voice. Ariana jumps, startled, mentally scolding herself for forgetting her surroundings. She'd been so concentrated in her magic that she'd temporarily lost track of her surroundings.

There's a group of boys behind the boy that yelled at her, and all Ariana can think is _shit_ because they're stalking closer towards her.

"What?" She asks, voice perfectly calm.

"What was that?" The leader of the boys demands.

Ariana lifts an eyebrow coolly, "What was what?" Her unaffected demeanor contradicts her inner turmoil. _Shit, shit, shit. I just showed magic to Muggles_.

"You know what!" Explodes the boy, face turning a nasty red, "That stuff you did with the wind—do it again!" The boys behind him nod in agreement like the mindless followers they are.

"What are you talking about? I was just sitting here and the wind just happened to be blowing." She countered.

"Shut up!" The boy shrieks, "Stop lying or you'll be sorry!"

" _Nothing happened_." She says firmly, almost desperately.

The boy lets out a roar of rage that has Ariana stumbling back a few inches— _come on, you're a war veteran_ , she snarls at herself. It is the viciousness of children that she is not quite used to. Adults are brutal and ruthless, but children are ten times worse. They are merciless when they don't get what they want, and Ariana discovers this firsthand when the group of boys—the warrior part of herself warns there are seven of them—jump on her and begin to pound her into the ground with their still-growing hands.

Children are not strong, but they have no measure of when to stop. She tries to block them, tries to get up and run, but the weight of seven eleven year old boys are too heavy for her young body and she is viciously dragged onto the ground. They tear and rip at her hair, her dress, her skin. Distantly, she recalls the phantom pain of Crucio, and the agony of Mudblood being carved onto her arm. She fights back as hard as she can, and her magic fluctuates sharply, trying to protect her. A boy is blasted into the hedges and another is slammed onto the ground. But there are too many, and her magic is not fully developed.

The boys injured boys get up in anger, rage making them beasts, and fear turning the others into monsters. They dig into her, tearing her skin, breaking her bones, bruising her body, and it's so, so painful. It doesn't stop, and she's screaming, crying, calling for help. One boy slams a foot onto her mouth and she bites her tongue so hard she nearly bites through it. Blood flows freely from her mouth, and judging by the wetness of her arms and her legs, she knows her mouth isn't the only place bleeding. Her ribs flare with sharp pain, and the ache of her body is indescribable. Yet they continue on, raging against her battered body, and Ariana's body is too weak to continue its struggle against them. She lies there, feels every punch, kick, stomp, rip, and it's too painful. She wants to black out, but she can't.

 _You're a Lion, a warrior. You've endured torture by the hands of Bellatrix Black and survived. You can survive this. Just endure._ She tells herself. _Just endure_ , she chants. And all she can hear is her soft mantra echoing through her head, and the inhuman snarls of the boys fade.

 _Endure_.

She distantly, hazily feels her magic brush steel itself into a shield, and then her magic explodes into a firework of rage and hatred. The magic whips violently around her, and they boys are thrown around in a mini hurricane. _Don't_ , she thinks weakly. She doesn't want to hurt anyone, but the more she tries to control her magic, the more it rebels. There's a tornado and then all is silent. There is no sound.

* * *

 **A/N: I know this chapter isn't as long as my usual ones, but it'll definitely get longer. I couldn't resist trying out a new writing style, so this story was born. This will be rated T for now, but it may be changed to M later. Please point out any mistakes or problems you see, and as usual, thanks for reading!**


	2. Act I, Scene II

She's floating.

The world is dark and shaded, and the air feels muffled. It's too dark to see anything, but she dreams of Harry and Ron. Faded remnants of the past, a pastfuture that's so far away she can't do anything but dream.

Flashes of her life as Hermione blink past her, moving quickly like the flutter of a hummingbird's wings. It aches, that sweet life she'd once had. Even if she'd been a girl turned fighter, too early, too young. There was nothing that could replace the feeling of having two best friends. Two people who know you even better than you do yourself; who know when you needed a hug or a laugh.

Her memories tear away at her, eating at the things she thought she'd known. She's ripping apart at the seams, her heart being yanked in two different directions.

 _Who am I?_

Is she Hermione? Is she Ariana? Her years as a Dumbledore pull at her mind and she feels herself spiraling down, deeper into an abyss that holds the depths of her heart.

An identity. That's all she wants. HermioneAriana thought she could live as Ariana Dumbledore. She thought she could accept the disappearance of her old life, and the birth of a new. But she can't remember if she has two brothers. She can't remember if she's the child of dentists. She can't remember if she's a Muggleborn or a Halfblood. Memories mix and swirl, bleeding into each other.

One moment, she's holding a lock of long blonde hair, and the next she's clutching a curl of brown.

She sees shining emerald eyes that fade into a brilliant, piercing blue.

 _Who—_ She chokes on the darkness, and a pressure crushes her chest, pressing down harder and harder until she's almost nothing.

A feral, primal part of her lashes out in her confusion, and distantly, she hears shrieking. The sounds cut her to the bone, reaching down into the deepest parts of her.

 _It hurts._

Everything hurts, and inside of her, there's a tiny swirl of madness that roots itself into her heart. It's barely a fleck, but it sears into her, hotter than fire.

It's dark, dark, dark, and she needs some light, she needs something to give her relief, but there's shouting and bangs and sharp explosions and she can't see anything.

She feels herself slipping away, darker and deeper into herself.

 _Who am I?_

 **{ }**

When HermioneAriana opens her eyes, the world is hazy and dim. She struggles to focus and blinks rapidly. Her arms sting, and she glances down at them.

 _Did I do that?_ Her arms are littered with dark bruises and raw, red scratches. There's a persistent throbbing in her head, and a sparking, untamed firework in her chest.

"Ariana?" A soft, almost fearful voice enters her ears, and she turns to see her mum (her mum?) sitting at her bedside.

Kendra Dumbledore reaches with a hesitant hand to stroke her daughter's hair, but ArianaHermione flinches away. It shocks and hurts Kendra, but she bites her lip and says nothing.

"What happened?" ArianaHermione's voice is hoarse, and it stings with overuse. She looks to her mum—or was it Kendra Dumbledore?—who looks away with pained eyes.

It's silent. ArianaDumbledore contemplates herself. She can't get rid of her feelings, her confusion on who she is. She's lived as Ariana, but she's also lived as Hermione. She's known people who don't even exist yet, but she's knows people who Hermione could've never become close to.

There's nothing she can do. The love she has for the people she's known and knows fills her to the brim, and it's like holding a warm cup of hot cocoa on a quiet winter day. It's peaceful, and it battles with the indecision that sleeps inside of her.

No matter what she tries or what she thinks, she'll always have two lives inside of her, battling for recognition. And she has to accept this. For now, she'll be Ariana.

Even if she misses Harry and Ron the most (though her old age has tempered some of the ache). Even if she misses her two best friends and the way they seemed to know how she was feeling and thinking; how Harry always knew the right thing to say and how Ron always managed to cheer her up.

Ariana knows that her two lives will always be warring inside of her, but she pushes it down, deep, deep inside of her, where she will leave it to one day resurface. She doesn't have time for this right now, not when the same insanity that caught the old Ariana could catch her.

Because even now, she's still the same person, even if she has two names and two lifetimes. And she just has to keep living, to keep learning, to change the future for those she cares about. Because she now has two lifetimes of family to protect, and she'll do whatever she can to make sure they live as happily as they possibly can. No one deserves the ever-present ache of never knowing their parents, or the empty hollowness of losing a sibling.

But she's here now, and she has to make sure that those terrible tragedies will never happen.

Ariana closes her eyes and rubs her temples. She can still feel her magic frothing inside of her like a geyser about to erupt. It's a wonder that the old Ariana even survived for so long without accidentally killing someone with her magic.

But she's not only Ariana, she's Hermione, so she has the steeled mind of a battle-hardened woman. She's already been traumatized by the war; she's been tortured and seen death falling all around her. A few cruel children won't be able to top that. Her magic feeds on her unstable emotions, so she'll just have to learn to temper herself. It won't be difficult. She's a logical person; and though she can get emotional, it's her cool, quick reasoning that's at the center of her character.

"Dear, are you alright?" Her mum's eyes are worried she looks like she wants to reach out to touch Ariana. It'd been a long, contemplative silence that her mum could have easily mistaken for withdrawal and fear.

"Yes, mum, I'm alright." It's when Ariana says this that she finally takes in her surroundings and sees how much of it is lying in disarray.

"Did I do that?" She asks her mum, almost tonelessly.

Kendra hesitates but nods. "Yes. But don't worry, no one was hurt. It's nothing that magic can't easily fix, dear."

"I'm sorry. I was scared." Ariana tells her mum honestly. Her mum leans forward and hugs her gently, but Ariana can tell that her mum is almost reserved in the hug. Like she's afraid of her.

Well, Ariana doesn't blame her. With magic as volatile as hers, she wouldn't be surprised if no one really wanted to go near her.

"Mum," she says slowly, "I won't hurt you. Or at least, I'll try my best not to."

And with this, her usually calm and composed mum bursts into tears. Kendra's sobbing, and she throws arms around her daughter tightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Kendra blubbers out fractured statements with variations between "I know" and "I'm sorry".

Ariana pats her mum's back gently. "Mum, there's nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything."

"No," wails her mum, "That's the problem. I should've been watching you. I should've never let that happen. I'm so sorry, Ariana. I'm sorry."

Ariana clutches her mum tightly in a way she's never done, even when she was a child.

When her dad comes into the room to investigate the noise her mum was making, he sees the two of them in an almost immovable embrace. It's painful and touching, and it makes his heart ache with anger at the Muggles who had hurt his daughter.

He sits by them and holds his wife's hand and says nothing. He's too busy thinking about righteous vengeance on those who dared to hurt his daughter so badly she'd been traumatized to the point where she couldn't control her magic.

 _They'll never get away with this._ He vows, looking at the small, vulnerable forms of his wife and daughter.

 **{ }**

The floorboards creak as Albus and Aberforth peer into their sister's room. Their mum is holding Ariana tightly as the two get much-needed sleep. It would almost be peaceful, if not for the events that'd occurred.

"I should've stayed with her instead of playing with my broom." Aberforth comments sadly, feeling a stir of grief for his sister's mental state and the pain she had to endure. "I hate those Muggles."

There's a bloom of anger in his chest, and he feels so much hate that it's hard to keep it in. "I hate them!"

Albus touches his brother's arm softly. "It's not our fault. And I hate them for doing that to Ariana too."

For the first time in years, the brothers feel a spark of amicability and shared agreement.

But good things never last in the Dumbledore household.

 **{ }**

The next thing Aberforth knows, his dad is in Azkaban and there are three dead Muggle boys. He's horrified and he doesn't know what's going to happen. His dad is gone. Gone, rotting in a jail where he'll never see his family again.

Albus is terrified. His mum is almost at her breaking point. Ariana's struggling with her magic and the guilt that she had a part in landing their dad in Azkaban. Aberforth is silent and only stays by Ariana's side.

Everything he thought he knew is falling apart too quickly for him to comprehend. His father is a murderer.

His carefully structured and planned life is shifting and moving directions that fade into the unknown.

 _What's going to happen?_

He's terrified.

Ariana now only sleeps fitfully. Her dreams are battered with death and shaded images. Her dad is in Azkaban, where he will die. All because of her. Because he killed the Muggle boys that attacked her.

The guilt eats away at her, and it feeds into her magic. Ariana may have been a battle-hardened woman (she'd never been a child), but she's never felt this kind of crushing guilt before.

Her dad. Her wonderful, loving dad is gone. Gone where will suffer in misery for the rest of his life. She wasn't able to save him.

It's all her fault.

Aberforth does all he can to support his family. His mum is unresponsive and doesn't talk. She breaks out into crazed fits, where she paces the room and mutters to herself until she collapses on the sofa. Albus shuts himself in his room and just reads all day. Ariana keeps her door shut in the fear that she will hurt someone with her magic.

But he's not afraid of her. Not really. Because he knows that Ariana could never hurt him. She would never willingly hurt her family, and he's the only one she has left because his mum is too busy trying to keep their family going, and his brother is too busy holing himself up in denial.

So he stays with Ariana, trying not to drown in grief, and supports her as best he can.

 **{ }**

A few weeks later, they're in Godric's Hollow. It's a wizarding village, with a few exceptions. However, it's the perfect place for Kendra Dumbledore, who just wants to live with her family in peace.

No one can ever know about Ariana.

Aberforth can tell his mum his treating his sister like some porcelain doll. His mum never lets Ariana go into the yard alone, and treats her like her magic is going to explode any minute.

He's nine now, and he knows Ariana the best. They're only a year apart, and as a result, they spent most of their time together as playmates. And he knows that this treatment isn't what Ariana needs. She needs to be treated normally, exposed to the world where she can learn to control her emotions. Her magic may be damaged, but Ariana's smart enough to find a way around it. He knows it.

But even as he voices his protests to his mum, nothing changes. Their family stays isolated, and Kendra rebuffs any form of neighborly contact. Because every time they go out, there are eyes and whispers. People blatantly pointing at them, staring at them with judging eyes like they know the whole story. It bothers Aberforth, but it infuriates Albus. Everywhere they go, there are whispers and stares, and they'll never be free from it.

Ariana doesn't know how much time has passed because all she does is stay in her room all day and read. Of course, under normal circumstances, she would have loved to read all day, but this is no normal circumstance. She's still battling with her inner guilt and the stifling feeling that comes with being treated as a secret. She knows that her mum is doing it for her own good—she doesn't want her daughter to be trapped in an asylum—but Ariana feels fine. She doesn't _feel_ insane. And while it may seem like she's unstable to her mum, she really isn't. Or at least, she doesn't feel that she is. Which is alright with her. Whoever said that the world was sane, anyway?

She hates the way the Dumbledores have to close themselves up. Bathilda Bagshot came knocking on their door the first day they moved in and tried to befriend Kendra, who promptly slammed the door in her face. Ariana just wants a normal life. She doesn't want her brothers to feel burdened. It just adds to her guilt, the guilt that makes her feel like she's ruined everything. The timeline is moving along just like it did in the original one, and the only thing that's changed is that Ariana is slightly less insane this time around. And that doesn't help at all. She can't believe that she's been able to change nothing, even with knowledge of the future.

Still, even as some days get particularly bad, when she's overcome with her guilt, she's grateful for Aberforth, who treats her normally, and is always gentle with her. He doesn't treat her like she's made of glass, but he isn't rough and inconsiderate of her feelings.

This both comforts her and eats away at her. She knows that Aberforth is struggling with the changes and his feelings, but he still makes time for her. In fact, he's always helping her. And Ariana doesn't want to feel useless anymore. She needs to do something for herself.

Even if she's still riddled with guilt, she has to learn to control her magic so her family won't have to live with secrecy. She knows that secrets hurt, and it's harder to hide a secret than to live with it exposed.

Ariana's emotionally damaged, but it's nothing she can't live with. After all, she's lived through a war, and she lived the rest of her life after that.

The rest of her days are filled with books and research, of practicing her magic and trying to pull her family back together again. She won't let her family suffer anymore.

Albus is engrossed in his studies (he'll be attending Hogwarts soon) and she knows that the family secret is dragging him down. So Ariana does her best to live as calmly as she can. Sometimes, she even helps Albus with his studies—she's already studied his subjects—but most of the time, she talks with Aberforth and does more research.

She's thirsty for more knowledge; she needs to change the future, and she needs to be well enough to attend Hogwarts. If she can't control her magic, she'll never be able to go. The original Ariana accidentally killed her mum when she was fourteen, and Ariana doesn't think she'll be able to live with that. Even if her mum is getting more and more distant as the months pass.

Controlling her magic is now something tedious and difficult—she makes slow progress, and she can't bring back the feeling of perfecting her magic to a sharp point. With a jolt of shock and horror, Ariana realizes that she doesn't even know what intentionally using her magic even feels like anymore. All of her toil and practice during her younger years were all for naught.

Suddenly, anger and frustration fills her. She's done nothing but practice and research for the past few months. Albus is going to Hogwarts in one week, and she's improved nothing since the incident. All of her feelings come crashing down into her—guilt, uselessness, frustration; the whole lot of them.

She gets up and leaves her room, going downstairs to where her brothers and her mum are eating lunch. Most of the time, Ariana forgets to eat, and Aberforth always has to remind her or bring her up some food.

But right now, she's irritated and furious with herself, she just needs to _get out_. She's been confined for months without feeling fresh air or the warm sun on her skin for so long. There's almost a feeling of hate buried under her negative emotions; a feeling of hate for her mum who refuses to let her live openly. She hates it. Hermione Granger had never been able to be held down, and Ariana Dumbledore isn't going to take it either. She's a free, independent soul, and she _can't stand this anymore_.

Without saying a word, she quietly walks to the back door and opens it. There's a calm expression on her face that contradicts the emotions boiling inside of her.

"Where are you going?" Asks her mum sharply. Ariana doesn't bother turning around.

"Out." She answers shortly, and thrusts the door open, ready to step outside for a taste of freedom.

"You can't!" Her mum's voice is bordering hysterical as she steps onto the soft, lush green grass of the backyard.

Ariana takes a deep breath and sighs contently. This freshness, this soothing wind; she's really really missed it. The grass tickles her bare toes, and she begins to wander over to a tall oak tree to sit down under.

" _Stop_!" A rough hand grabs Ariana's arm, and she harshly tugged back by her mum. " _I told you that you can't go outside alone._ "

Anger overwhelms Ariana, smothering the fear of disobeying her mum.

Who is she to stop her? Hermione has lived decades longer than Kendra has, and she's lived through a fucking _war_. So who is she to stop her?

Hermione rips her arm away. "I'm going outside." She says calmly, though the rage simmering beneath her voice is evident for all to hear.

Her mum looks terrified and furious. " _I said no._ "

"I'm going outside and that's that. I haven't been outside for months, and I've been living like a prisoner! You never let me do _anything_ , and I want to stop living like the shameful family secret!"

Her mum nearly recoils—this is the first time Hermione's raised her voice intentionally—but quickly darts forward to forcibly drag her back inside.

Kendra is terrified. Utterly terrified. She's been living with the stares and the whispers, and she's lost her husband to Azkaban. She has a mentally unstable daughter and two sons to take care of. She can't let Ariana be discovered. She won't. And she won't let Ariana be taken away to an asylum. She can't afford to lose any more of her family, and it's pushing her to her limits.

"Get inside!" She shrieks, and seizes her daughter by the arm and starts dragging her into the house.

Aberforth and Albus have gathered to the back door and are watching with rising horror.

The air twists and writhes, and the magic that had been suppressed by Hermione explodes violently. Kendra flies backwards into the house, and the back door slams so hard it nearly falls off its hinges. The oak tree moans as another wave of magic blasts into it, and the roots creak ominously. The house has been slightly singed, and there's so much chaos that everyone is stunned and unable to move.

Immediately, guilt and shame fills Hermione as she stands, panting harshly. She'd lost control of her magic and hurt someone. Again.

And this time, it was her mum.

Ariana grimaces as she closes her eyes tiredly.

 _I can't believe I hurt someone again. And mum, of all people._

Her magic is already twisted and broken in ways that can't be repaired. It's something that she can feel inside of her, writhing and contorting like a snake that's just struck its prey. She can't fix it.

It's frustrating, and the thought echoes around her.

 _My magic is broken_.

It's frustrating and painful and fills her with grief. She'd always had pride in her magical abilities, her precise control. But now, it's all gone. Everything she thought she had just disappeared with one incident.

And it's not fair. She hates it, hates what she's become.

"Ari?" asks Aberforth hesitantly. He steps forward like one might do to an injured animal.

She looks up at him, and her eyes are brimming with hot, angry, and shameful tears.

"Hey, it's okay." Aberforth soothes, coming closer to her, "It's not your fault. It'll be okay." He takes her hand with the utmost tenderness, and Ariana can feel her heart ache with the love she has for her brother. The only family member that's treated her like a person, not a burden.

"Sorry." She sniffs. Though she has the mindset of an adult, she has the body of a child. And she's so, so tired. Tired of everything.

Aberforth pulls her into a gentle hug and the two stand there for what seems like an eternity as Albus tends to their mum.

Ariana now knows that she must learn to control her magic. It isn't an option. And she doesn't even want to think about what might have happened if the outburst had been more lethal, and if her mum hadn't flown into the couch.

 _I might've killed her._ And it's a thought that chills her to the bone. She is not a killer, nor does she want to be.

 **{ }**

Albus takes off for Hogwarts, glad to be away from his family. He can't deal with this, not now, when he has such a vast future in front of him. All he can see are the possibilities, and he doesn't need anything or anyone tying him down. Sure, he loves his family, but he also loves knowledge and power. And Hogwarts is the perfect place to gain what he's looking for.

He leaves behind a broken but slowly healing sister, an angry brother, and a changed mum.

Seven more years to go. Seven more years until he's finally an adult.

* * *

 **A/N: So the whole Hermione Ariana thing might be confusing but here it is in a nutshell: Whichever name is in the narrative reflects her state of mind. So when she becomes more like "Hermione", she's more detached to the Dumbledores, and has attributes that she gained from her past life (like how the war affected her, ect.). But when she's "Ariana", she feels the familial bonds strongly, and looks towards the present rather than what she once had.**

 **And yes, she's kind of insane. I mean, how can you not be? Hermione holds two lives inside of her, and she doesn't know which people she values more, ect. So I hope I'm portraying her struggle with reality in a way that's understandable.**

 **Thanks to all the people who favorited, followed, and reviewed!**

 **This chapter was seriously hard to write, for some reason, so the quality isn't that great (I'm ashamed to say). Anyway, I just wanted to get this out of the way and move on to bigger plot points. Hopefully Grindelwald can make his appearance in a few chapters (though I highly doubt it will be that soon). As usual, thanks for reading, and please point out any concerns or issues you see in this chapter!**


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